


Raining Again

by cant



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Character Death, zombie verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cant/pseuds/cant
Summary: Miller and Vince go out of the camp on a scouting mission





	Raining Again

It was raining again. 

In some ways, it was welcome. It was comforting, the sound of the rain like white noise on the roof of the ancient rusty pickup they’d commandeered, coming down the windows in waves and streaks. Even with the wipers struggling on the windscreen, it was still hard to see through the mist of water, and one failing headlight wasn’t enough. 

“We gotta stop,” muttered Vince, tipping the steering wheel a fraction to the left. They were in an open suburban neighbourhood, sheltered by a police station on their right. The truck shuddered to a stop and the engine noise cut to silence. 

Vince tuned the radio. Static. 

“How much further?” Mills asked, his voice heavy with sleep. 

“I don’t know,” Vince admitted, earning a frown. “I really thought we’d see something.” 

The radio continued to only feed them static. For a moment they listened, the sound of radio white noise blending with the rain – Mills could almost pick out voices from it, if he really tried to imagine them. 

The station on their right looked fairly abandoned. All the lights were off save for a few emergency lights, suggesting there was still a little power on the grid, but Mills wasn’t about to hold his breath. Houses either side, stretching down the road, all looked like stamped clones of each other, though all were abandoned and cold, with windows smashed and doors hanging off hinges. Though a few were boarded up, the area was silent. 

“We might be able to raid the police locker for guns,” Vince said, though they knew it was a reach. If the guns hadn’t already been taken, it was unlikely they’d even be able to get in without triggering an alarm. 

Miller was unusually quiet in the passenger seat. He was staring out into the rain, down the road, just watching the image distort through the sheets of water pouring down the glass. Vince could almost imagine, at moments like this, that he was somewhat human, and he had thoughts and feelings and emotions just the same as him. 

Vince had to ask. “You okay?” 

He got a curt nod in return. In an instant, Mills was back to normal, steely and determined, his moment of weakness over. He wordlessly pulled up his hood and opened the door, slipping out into the rain.   
Vince breathed out, both hands finally relaxing on the wheel. They argued, sure. They had their moments, irritating each other or letting their exhaustion get the better of them, but they’d made it this far together, and Vince had learnt enough of the signs to know this wasn’t irritation on Mills’ mind. Something was upsetting him, but if he couldn’t get two words out of the man, he’d have to wait. 

 

They’d have to go another day, Vince told the camp once they got in walkie-talkie range, with more people, during daylight. They hadn’t been able to check the police station in case they triggered any alarms, and he wasn’t about to risk it. They could wait a night. 

The walkie-talkie crackled for a moment. Then: “copy. We’ll go tomorrow, weather permitting.” 

Weather permitting, sure. Vince just wasn’t sure if Miller would also permit. 

The rain still beat down on the pickup’s tinny roof. On the driver’s side, there was a gap in the window, so a small stream of freezing water trickled down the side of the dashboard. 

“I’m sorry for being so quiet.” 

That was a surprise. Vince took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at Mills in shock. It had been almost an hour without a single word from him. “It’s all right,” he said, his tone measured. “I figured you had something on your mind.” 

Miller nodded, leaning his elbow on the door. “The fire,” he said simply. 

Vince understood quicker than he’d have liked to. He’d seen the way Mills looked at that house fire, like his dog had just jumped into the flames and not come out, or like his favourite toy had somehow caught the flames. Even the neat circle of the camp bonfire was apparently painful. On quiet nights, while everyone else was talking and laughing, singing a few songs, Vince would look over and see Miller staring into the flames like he wanted to jump in. 

“I don’t mean to… You know. What is it with you and fire?” he asked, perhaps a little insensitive – if Vince knew Miller, however, insensitivity was the last thing he’d pick up on. 

He was right. Miller just looked sad. “It’s… I saw my parents burnt alive,” he said. 

Vince’s heart skipped a beat, lodging in his chest uncomfortably for a moment. “Shit,” he said emphatically, making a left turn, rounding up on the campsite. “I’m sorry.” 

Miller shook his head, his hood hiding his face from Vince as he looked out of the window, observing the camp for a moment as they slowed, rolling the truck to a stop. “It’s history,” he said.

Vince didn’t really know what to say. With the engine off, only the rain on the roof and the windows could be heard. Outside the little pickup cabin, the other survivors glanced out of their tents and their tree shelters, a few children pointing out the rusty pickup. Uncle Vince and his weird friend are back. 

Wearily, Miller sighed, adjusting his hood, turning to look at Vince with those sincere green eyes. “Sorry,” he said, his voice a little firmer. “Didn’t want to think about it, honestly.” 

Something about the way he said was almost humorous, but Vince wouldn’t laugh. “No need to apologise. Maybe you need a distraction.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, his voice still carrying so much exhaustion. 

Outside, the setting sun and the sheets of rain made everything look grey and foggy. A flash of lightning in the near distance, followed a few seconds later by a low rumble of thunder, told Vince they should get inside soon, maybe into the low shelter. 

It would be a little awkward to hug, but Vince reached out to place a gentle hand on the back of Mills’ neck, pulling him forwards gently into a slight forehead touch. For a second, Miller didn’t react, but gradually a smile formed.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried 2 write something atmospheric :B


End file.
